Sure, there were a few close calls—his suspicions and jealousy about Fern, for starters. I couldn’t believe how worked up he got about that.
Totally unnecessary.
Or the subtle grief he gave me for wanting to go to a spa with Cecilia instead of coming to his “photo shoot.”
Again, completely uncalled for.
“Oh, Sam! You look beautiful! Hugh’s jaw is going to drop. Fern said they’re almost ready for us. You need to sit tight for a few more minutes,” Amira told me, opening the door of the car.
Hugh had absolutely no need to get upset about Fern . . . my handsome and charming wedding planner. I hoped the “fake photo shoot” crew was filming every moment of this, because I hated to miss out on Hugh’s reaction as the church filled with our closest friends and family members.
It hadn’t been easy, but with the help of my allies, I had been able to pull this off.
In just a few minutes, I’d be walking down the aisle. My dad was going to put my hand in Hugh’s, and in about an hour, we’d be husband and wife. The priest, Father Adams, had warned me that the Catholic wedding rite was long and didn’t happen as fast as it did in those American movies—his words.
Obviously, I didn’t have enough time to convert to Catholicism. Father Adams made it clear when I met with him that he would have preferred it, especially since I hadn’t been raised in any particular religion, but I’d explained to him that we wanted to get married sooner rather than later.
The Scottish priest was not enthusiastic about my plan. It had taken a few calls and a few words from Hugh’s parents during the last few weeks to convince him to officiate a surprise wedding. Apparently, in Scotland, it was actually against the law to have one.
In the end, Father Adams reluctantly agreed to my request, though not before telling me he would require the groom’s approval to proceed before officiating the ceremony.
He was as curious as he was baffled by my plans.
Admittedly, it was unusual, but to be honest, I had been wanting to surprise Hugh ever since he left me speechless with his swoon-worthy proposal. I had known almost immediately that somewhere down the road, I had to reciprocate with a gesture just as grand as his.
When we started filming, it became evident that he was never going to have time to plan the wedding with me. We could have set the date for the next summer, but I knew he was going to be gone a lot promoting the show, and I didn’t want him to miss out on possible side projects. The more I thought about a wedding the next summer, the more it sounded unlikely. With the show’s filming schedule lasting anywhere from six to eight months, his free time was limited.
I loved him, and I wanted him to be able to make his dreams come true.
That included our nuptials, as well as his career.
He had been waiting to get more opportunities for over a decade, so I didn’t want him to miss out on the good ones now that they had started to arrive. Unlike him, I had been working steadily since I’d gotten out of school. I never really knew struggle when it came to my profession, and now I had the job of a lifetime. I didn’t see being supportive as a duty; I saw it as a natural trait of a healthy relationship. I knew he would do the same for me.
“Are you doing okay, honey?” my dad asked, squeezing my hand, interrupting my daydream.
“I think so. So far, at least.” I smiled, but as the words left my lips, I felt my stomach fill with butterflies. An uneasy feeling crept up all the way to my chest, clutching my heart.
Suddenly, I felt a knot in my throat.
Am I doing the right thing? Is he going to react the way I hope?
I turned around to ask my dad, but he let himself out of the car at just that moment.
Get your shit together, Samhain. Too late to go back now.
Amira reappeared and opened the door of the black Mercedes.
I took a deep breath and extended my hand out to her.
“Wait!” she whispered. “Oh, my gosh! Where’s your something blue? You have something new,” she said, pointing at my dress.
I let out a laugh. She was going to like this.
“Mira . . .” I pursed my lips in a smile.
“Your engagement ring is your something old, my necklace is your something borrowed . . . but what about your something blue?”
“Mira!” I said again, trying to get her attention, but she wouldn’t stop rambling.
“How could we forget this? I’m the worst maid of honor ever!”
“Mira, would you listen to me? We’re fine.” She had left the spa before I was ready in order to go over the last few things with Fern and Declan, another one of my accomplices, so she hadn’t seen me with my dress on . . . or my shoes.
I pulled up a bit of my dress, turned in my seat, and stretched my legs out of the car, showing her my feet, clad in blue leather flats.
“Here’s my something blue.”
“You’re wearing flats on your wedding day?”
“Why not? I’d rather dance all night than not enjoy my wedding because my feet are killing me.”
“What’s the holdup?” Cecilia asked as she walked toward us. She’d been waiting by the entrance of the church and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her growing more impatient by the second.
“Nothing. Mira wanted to make sure I had everything I needed. I do.” I glanced at the two of them, clad in similar hunter green, floor-length chiffon dresses. They were holding small bouquets with heather, lily of the valley, and baby’s breath, tied together with ribbons the colors of the MacLeod tartan.
“You both look beautiful.”
Amira smiled while Cecilia said, “Of course we do! Do you think I could look less than simply stunning, especially next to Ms. Hollywood right here?” she said, pointing at my sister.
“Ah, stop it!” Amira said with a wave of her hand. “You look gorgeous, Cece.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Now, are we bloody done? Your groom must be wondering what the hell is going on.”
I smiled, somewhat nervous but mostly ready to cross the threshold of the church and see my man at the altar.
“Jolly good! If that isn’t the smile of a radiant bride, I don’t know what it is. Hugh’s jaw is going to drop. You look so beautiful!”
I mumbled, “Thank you,” and squeezed her hand.
“Come on, you three,” our father admonished us. “It’s time to go. Your groom is waiting.” He tilted his head toward the church and gave me a reassuring smile then stretched his hand out to help me out of the car. Amira grabbed my bouquet and Cecilia helped me with the veil as I came out of the sleek car.
All around us, the invitees were lining up to take their seats in the church and give my groom one hell of a surprise. I caught a few glimpses of some of our family members and coworkers.
Amira and Cecilia fixed my dress and waited for people to make their way in before they lined up behind Rory and Claire.
“Ready to go?” My father smiled at me and patted my hand where it rested in the crook of his elbow.
I nodded, smiling nervously. This was happening. I couldn’t wait to see Hugh’s face.
HUGH
Everything had been so quiet in the church, and then all of a sudden, it wasn’t.
The doors opened, and a commotion broke the austere silence.
Half of the nave of the church was flooded in light, and I squinted, my eyes trying to adjust. People started making their way through the doors. Still blinded by the light, I couldn’t make out their faces, could only see their silhouettes.
Are we interrupting a wedding? The church’s staff would have told us if we were . . . wouldn’t they?
In the distance, outside in the courtyard, I could barely make out the silhouette of a woman in white holding the arm of a man dressed in black.
My eyes were glued to the woman, because from a distance, she looked eerily familiar. But it can’t be, can it? It isn’t possible. It can’t be Sam. She’d told me she had plans for the day.
Unless . . .
I scanned for the crew from the photo shoot, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. I looked toward the exit where the woman had stood just a moment before, but I lost sight of her as more attendees made their way into the church. As people came forward and took their seats, I recognized some familiar faces—people from the crew, supporting actors . . . my Uncle Finley and my Aunt Flora.
I waved at them, dumbfounded.
Wait a minute . . .
A voice inside me told me to keep calm, but I couldn’t. I needed to know. Was this it? Was this my wedding? How could this be true? I was frozen on the spot for a few more seconds before I decided to make my way through the family members who waved at me as they entered through the narrow doors of the church.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate through the incoming crowd, but I had to try. I started marching toward the exit until I felt someone pulling my arm.
“That’s not how it’s supposed to work, ya ken. You need to wait for her to come to ye,” my brother Declan said with a smug grin.
I smiled, surprised to see him, and then frowned, still confused. My brother turned me around and pulled me into a hug. I hardly reciprocated it, stunned by the fact that he was in front of me—it meant this was probably my wedding.
“Declan, what the bloody hell is going on?” I asked, still sort of confused about the whole thing. I had left my house that morning thinking I was headed for a photo shoot, but now I was about to get married?
How? How had she orchestrated all of this? How had she had the time to organize a wedding in . . . what, two months?
“What do ye think is going on, brother? It’s your wedding day. Smile.” He grinned, patting my cheek with a heavy hand.
I let out a deep breath and smiled, but it felt forced. I was still deeply confused about how I’d found myself at the center of a surprise wedding.
A surprise wedding my fiancée organized.
That vixen.
“Come,” my brother said, motioning for me to join him by the altar where our younger brothers were waiting for us, all dressed in attire identical to mine. As I scanned my brother’s figure, I reckoned it wasn’t the same jacket and kilt he’d worn at his own wedding years ago. This one was a dark blue with a modern, fitted cut, and it covered the hips. The shirt was a dark blue like the one I was wearing. Even the tie matched the blue of the jacket and the shirt, and it had a little tie clip with our clan’s colors. The tartan’s colors were undoubtedly those of the MacLeod clan, but the style of the kilt seemed slightly different from the one I’d worn at Declan’s wedding.
As I walked back to the altar, I noticed my relatives sitting down on one side of the church as my parents approached, as well as Sam’s mother and brother.
“Mum! Dad!” I said with a nervous wave before my mother wrapped me in a tight hug.
“You look very handsome!” my mum said as she kissed my cheek. I nodded, but couldn’t come up with anything to say. It was obvious they were all part of the surprise. My father patted me on the back.
“Hey, Dad.” My voice came out in a whisper as we hugged. They told me not to be nervous and took their seats.
Sam’s mother hugged me next.
“You had no idea, did you?” she asked. Kathleen seemed a bit stunned herself. The amused look in her eyes told me she also couldn’t believe her daughter had kept all this under wraps, right under my nose. I let out a breath and shook my head no, still having trouble formulating complete sentences.
“Well, I couldn’t be happier to gain such a handsome and devoted son-in-law. I couldn’t imagine a better man for my little girl.” She caressed my cheek, and then it was Rob’s turn to say hello.
Rob looked like a taller version of Sam’s father—I had seen pictures of the man when he was younger—but unlike his dad, he had a cooler, more distant demeanor. Rob was an app developer, and as the brainiac of the family, he was the observant, contemplative one. We’d had very little chance to hang out, even when I was in the States with Sam, so I felt I didn’t know him that well yet. Sam, Amira, and I worked in the same industry, while Rob’s social circle was in Silicon Valley. We fist bumped and hugged the way American blokes did with their friends. He took a seat with my future mother-in-law and I turned around to say hi to a few friends and colleagues.
Everyone was all smiles while I probably looked like a frazzled mess of a man.
Declan tugged on my sleeve to pull me where I was supposed to stand near the altar and my brothers took turns giving me hugs. Seeing them all there with me made me feel grounded, although my head was still spinning. How did she pull this off?
“Stop acting all out of sorts, Hugh. Now’s the time to put those acting skills to good use, brother.”
“You’re right,” I replied with a nod, taking a deep breath.
“You’re marrying a bonnie lass who’s mad for you.”
I nodded again, still lost in my thoughts. My heart was beating a million beats per minute, and although it wasn’t particularly warm inside the church, I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck. I brushed a strand of hair to the side and ran my hand down my face, telling myself to stop being such a flap.
As the last few guests took their seats, a string quartet started playing in a corner by the altar. I was momentarily distracted by it, until I saw Claire and Rory at the entrance of the church.
Rory came down the aisle first, carrying the rings on a wee pillow. He stopped midway and looked back to his sister, the uncertain look in his eyes betraying his confusion. When bossy little Claire mouthed not so quietly to, “Keep going,” the whole congregation erupted in laughter. When Rory neared the altar, my mum took his hand and guided him to sit with her. Claire came down the nave of the church next, throwing white rose petals with a confidence I’d never seen in a child her age.
After Claire, it was Cecilia and Amira’s turn. They both walked slowly, and as they made their way toward the altar, I tried to get a better look at my bride.
I nodded hello to Cecilia first and then to Amira.
Finally, the woman I love made her way down the aisle, accompanied by her father.
SAM
I had been so sure of everything. I hadn’t had a doubt about it.
Not once.
Until now.
I didn’t know why I had started feeling insecure about it for the first time ever as I stepped out of the car, but the ache clutching my heart had only intensified since then.
My arm was wrapped around my father’s as we waited for our turn to cross the threshold of the church.
I had been so impatient about it all.
I couldn’t wait to see his face, his reaction.
But now, the certainty I’d had about it had vanished, replaced by a million insecurities.
What if he hated this? What if he thought this was nothing but a crass manipulation at his expense? What if he felt betrayed because of what I’d kept from him?
What if he hated my idea? Would he end up hating me?
What if he walked out on me?
This was stupid. I shouldn’t have gotten so carried away—and why did everyone else get on board with this insane plan? I was losing it, and I was all too aware that it was too late to go back.
What the fuck have I done?
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, and my father heard me.
He cocked one eyebrow at me, giving me one of those looks he reserved for when I really misbehaved.
“Sam, language. We’re about to enter a church after all, and you’re about to get married—in front of God, in his house. Have some respect.”
“Yes, Dad,” I said, pursing my lips.
Cecilia had just walked down the aisle, and Amira had just started walking toward the altar. I couldn’t see very well from where we were standing.
I swallowed past the knot in my throat and let out a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. My father noticed and patted the hand that was wrapped around his arm.
�
��It’s only normal to feel nervous, my dear.”
“It’s not just that, Dad. Are you sure I didn’t make a colossal mistake?”
He eyed me suspiciously and gave me a bitter look.
“It’s a bit too late to get cold feet, Sam.”
“I don’t have cold feet. I still want this very much, but what if he doesn’t? What if he hates all of it?”
My dad laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and shook his head.
“No, he won’t. He’s not going to hate it, not if he loves you as much as I think he does. Besides, most grooms would be perfectly happy to have no part in wedding planning. Most grooms would be happy with just being asked to show up.”
I smiled at his words, but I wasn’t completely convinced. Hugh was not “most grooms.” He’d always given me the impression he wanted to be part of the process.
And I had taken that away from him.
“Sam, just stop second-guessing yourself,” my father said. “Everything will be okay, I promise you.”
I gave him a tight-lipped smile and took another deep breath.
I tried to focus, but my stupid thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Come on, we’re up next,” my father said.
I swallowed again and let my father lead me, stepping on the first step of the church. It would have been easier if I could have seen his face then.
If I could have seen his eyes, could have seen his smile, or simply studied his reaction, I would have been okay.
But I couldn’t really see him from where I was standing.
The church, built in the late 1800s, had a vaguely gothic style, that austere look many churches around Scotland and England have. I wasn’t an expert, but like I said, I’d done a bit of research. The church was all high arches and bare walls, made of simple stone, with small, pointy windows along the sides. There were more windows behind the altar, but it still didn’t provide enough light for me to be able to look in from where I was.
Also, I could barely see because of another reason—it was a bright and sunny day.
Scotland weather always knew how to surprise me.
A Scottish Wedding (Lost in Scotland Book 2) Page 15